


Our Lives, Our Fuck-ups, Our Love, Our Passion

by ezwra



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: BAMF Gavin Free, Fake AH Crew, Getting Together, Graphic Description, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Torture, Trans Female Character, Trans Gavin Free, Trans Jack Pattillo, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 02:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezwra/pseuds/ezwra
Summary: I am standing on the beach watching the tsunami growFrom a minuscule rise in the horizon to a monstrous tidal waveI am not moving, I am not scaredI am not scared, I am not wearing swimwearI am standing on the beach waiting for the tsunamii’m thinking about horses - mansionz





	Our Lives, Our Fuck-ups, Our Love, Our Passion

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK IS BASED SOLELY OFF OF FANDOM REFERENCES AND CHARACTERISATIONS. I am writing this to rt/ah guidelines as best as I know them. I do not know of their in video personas as I havent watched regularly since 2014. These are characters based on / referencing real people, but are not those people.
> 
> this is slightly rushed because ive been working on it for so long and just really wanted to get it finished so i could maybe work on something else, but i really worked hard on this and spent many hours on it
> 
> if you want to skip over the non-con touching then stop reading at "it's too late, and you know this is your fault" and start again at "gavin hasnt managed to close his eyes for more than ten minutes"
> 
> also it was all written out of order, so please drop a comment if something doesnt make sense

Gavin’s been working for what feels like days on end; his eyes burn, his hands are shaking slightly from caffeine fueled exhaustion, and his ass hurts from sitting for too long. He rubs at his eyes tiredly and lets his head hang for a few moments, hair dangling limply within his vision. It’s greasy and dull, and he can feel the build up of oil on his face. He goes to stand up and as he moves he can smell himself; he grabs some lynx from the table and sprays it haphazardly before dragging himself from the desk to the door. Gavin pushes it open and comes face to face with Geoff and Michael - he blinks rapidly and raises his brows, “oh, hello.”

Geoff scratches at the hinge of his jaw, frowning heavily, “Gavin, how long have you been in there?”

He frowns and shrugs, scrunching up his face a little as he leans against the doorframe, “a few days - i know it's taking a while, I'm working as fast as I can, Geoff-”

“We don't care about that,” Michael interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Geoff and ignoring his muttered  _ well, I do _ , “you’ve been in there for days, take a break. Matt can continue while you sleep and have an actual meal and  _ maybe _ complete a REM cycle.”

Gavin rubs his bicep gently and shrugs, “I'm nearly done, maybe another day.”

“If you're  _ nearly done _ , you can take a break,” Michael says, raising his brows high and adjusting his glasses slightly; it's the height of summer, and the longer that Gavin looks at him the more he can see that new freckles have bloomed along the ridge of his nose and, when he flicks his eyes down, the exposed lines of his shoulders, “go take a shower and have a nap.”   


“The job isn't until next week, anyway,” Geoff butts in, “so take a day or two. Let Matt handle it and take over once you’re rested up. It's easier to make simple mistakes when you're tired, anyway.”

Gavin nods gently and looks back into his tech room for a few moments, then turning back and shrugging, “I suppose I could take a break.”

Michael grins bright, it reminds Gavin of the sun, “great, now go.”

He nods quickly and smiles tiredly at them both before shuffling past, walking down the hall to his own bedroom. Gavin has his own small apartment, and he generally uses it after nights out because of how close it is to the city, but he’s got one of the bigger rooms with an ensuite in the penthouse due to the sheer amount of hours he works before crashing into an exhaustion induced coma.

Once Gavin’s in the room, he strips his clothes off as he walks to the ensuite door. His back cracks and he manages to get his foot stuck in his trousers, but otherwise he makes it into the bathroom and locks the door. There’s various hair products and make-up items littered across the counter, and one part of the mirror has a badly drawn pair of glasses with a moustache and goatee next to a pair of devil horns and cat ears, each with their own matching tail - Michael had snuck in with Lindsay at one point while they were both drunk and drawn them on in sharpie, and Gavin never really had the heart to clean it off.

He’s smiling fondly as he climbs into the shower, and he can't help but think of Michael. He thinks about getting drunk and joyriding with him, or watching him on security cameras as he beats another man to a pulp.

He scrubs himself down and thinks, idly, of kissing Michael.

They’ve done it before, as jokes or pranks or when blindingly drunk. He’ll press a sloppy kiss to Michael’s cheek after a job well done, or chase him around the penthouse with grabby hands because  _ I need to give my lovely little boi a kiss! _

He rinses himself off and climbs out, towelling himself off. He’s not  _ in love _ with him or anything, no way, but he wouldn't be against a cheeky snog or two. Michael is  _ lovely _ and he’s Gavin’s closest friend and he can't imagine working with the Fakes without him being there to donkey punch him or lead him to a toilet to throw up in.

He pulls on the same pair of sweatpants and his binder and drapes the towel over his head, grabbing the rest of the laundry and dumping it into the basket before walking out to his room. He lets out a pitchy squawk when he finds Michael sat on his bed, jolting backwards before letting out a groan and leaning against his own knees as Michael laughs.

“You should have seen your fucking  _ face _ , oh my god!”

“Michael,” Gavin whines, “don't scare me like that, Michael!” he shuffles over to the bed and flops down face first onto the mattress next to Michael, groaning into the sheets, “i'm trying to relax before bed, not die prematurely because of a bloody heart attack!”

Gavin feels him shift around a little and he turns his face to the side, smiling softly when Michael comes into view, “sorry, boi,” he says, grinning bright. Gavin knows he isn't really sorry, but he doesn't care. Gavin can smell the smoke and soot that still remains despite how clean Michael is, and he hums softly.

“How did the job go?” he asks quietly, scared to talk too loudly lest he break the nice atmosphere.

Michael adjusts his position and moves his arms under his head, “it went pretty good; Jer got a little carried away and took out some of the next block, but we managed to hit their main stash of weapons anyway.”

“It’s still their territory, so i feel hitting any part of it is a good idea. But I'm glad it was okay.” Gavin says, voice trailing off as he begins to mumble into his arms. There’s a tap against his shoulder and he grunts, frowning and opening one of his eyes to Michael’s expectant face.

“Binder,” he says, frowning, “don't sleep with it on.”

Gavin groans softly and rubs his eyes with the back of his forearm, “m’probably only gonna sleep for a couple hours, Michael, it doesn't matter.”

Michael frowns a little more and shoves him slightly, “you’ve been wearing it for days already and you have those fuckin’ pressure rubs on your back, so take it off, dickweed.” he sits up and stretches himself out before standing up, “i’ll head out, okay?”

Gavin rolls onto his back and hesitates before nodding slowly, “okay,” he says.

_ I want you to stay _ , he doesn't say.

\--

Gavin finally,  _ finally _ , finishes the code and the program he needs for the next job; despite matt’s best efforts to help while Gavin took a day off, it took an extra two days to fix it up and prepare it for the bank heist.

The first thing he does is go to the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. He cracks it open against the marble counter as Michael walks in, and the other man lets out a startled laugh, “wow, too tired for a bottle opener?”

Gavin takes two long pulls before setting it down and laughing, “yep. I finally finished what I was doing, and im too impatient.”

Michael takes his own beer from the fridge and takes a bottle opener instead, smirking gently and swilling it gently in the bottle, “wanna go out and celebrate? The job’s not far, too. We could invite the others.”

Now initially, Gavin was excited at the idea of going out bar hopping with Michael, celebrating the end of Gavin’s tedious work and preparing themselves for the clusterfuck that will be the upcoming heist. But at the mention of their friends coming, as much as he loves them, he feels a little bit… cockblocked isn't the right word, but he knows that he wants to spend some quality alone time with his boi, and that’s all he really wants right now.

“Sounds good,” he says, smiling gently, “I'll check with Geoff and see if everyones free.” Gavin manages to finish off the rest of his beer and dump the bottle into the trash, rubbing his hands together before saluting weakly and shuffling past Michael.

He walks down the hall and knocks on the door to Geoff’s room, rubbing his hands together as he shoulders the door open at his  _ come in! _

“Hey, Gav,” Geoff says. He’s sat at his desk, twirling a pen around his fingers; he looks stumped about something, and Gavin raises his brows gently before choosing to ignore it, “what do you need?”

“Rude,” he says, “as if I don't talk to you when I don't need stuff.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Gavin rolls his eyes and walks in, jumping onto his bed and sitting cross-legged, hands on his knees, “whatever, Geoffrey. I don't actually need anything, i was just coming to say that Michael and I are going on a pub crawl tonight, and since we haven't done pre-heist celebrations Michael suggested we all go.”

“Do you want us to go with you two?” Geoff asks, spinning on his chair and pressing the end of his pen against his chin, “you can say no. I know you’re trying to, y’know, get jiggy-”

“Ew, jesus,” Gavin pulls a face, “you’re old, and gross. And I don't mind if you guys come along, we need to do our pre-heist drinks anyway.” Gavin stands up, stretching before making his way out.

“Okay then, Gav!” Geoff says, and Gavin shoots off a  _ drinks tonight ladies and gents!  _ into their group chat. He walks back into the kitchen and opens the fridge, humming a soft tune to himself as he looks for something to eat. He gives up after a few moments, attention getting dragged away by another thought instead. 

After closing the fridge with a huff, Gavin walks into his own room and opens up the wardrobe. He pushes shirts around and frowns, humming softly to himself.

“Hey, dickhead,” Gavin looks over and smiles a little at Michael in his doorway, “what did Geoff say?”

“We’re good to go, Michael-boi,” Gavin says, grinning a little before turning back to the closet and sifting through it, “I'm just trying to find some nice clothes for tonight.”

“Want some help?”

Gavin laughs, “sure, maybe I can find something nice for you too!”

“You sayin’ my clothes aren't nice?” Michael says, and suddenly there’s arms around his waist and he’s being lifted up. He yells and laughs, kicking his legs and struggling until he’s dumped on his back onto the bed, Michael pinning him down and kneeling over him, “that’s kinda mean, Gavvy.”

He stares up at Michael, blushing bright and grinning a little, “sorry, Michael,” he croons, flexing his fingers a little and tilting his head, “can I be forgiven?”

Michael smirks and hums, leaning back a little before grinning evilly, “maybe, but I've gotta do  _ this _ .”

Suddenly, Michael’s hands are all over him, and Gavin can't help his shrieking laugh as he kicks and struggles under Michael. The tickling continues until Michael’s laughing too, then he can't keep his position and topples to the side, on his back cackling wildly while Gavin giggles and pants.

Gavin smiles bright up at his ceiling; life can't really get better than this, can it?

\--

It’s around ten at night when Ryan pulls up next to the bar, and everyone piles out almost immediately. Jack’s driving the car behind them, and even more people start walking up to the bar. Gavin stays close to Michael, grinning fondly when Michael wraps a hand around his bicep to make sure they stick together as they pass through the door and into the crowded establishment. They go straight to the bar together and sit, shoulders pressed together - Michael orders both their drinks while Gavin plays with a napkin.

“You excited for this job, Gavvy?”

Gavin shrugs and grins gently, tilting his head, “a little, but i'm kinda nervous too, since the last time didn't go so well.”

Left him hiding in an alley alone with a bullet in his thigh and only one clip of ammo left, footsteps coming closer and closer until Michael ended up rounding the corner with a look of panic and then such palpable relief that Gavin couldn't help but stumble over and sling his arms around Michael’s neck. It put him out of commission for a month for field work, strict instructions from everyone to relax and recover (and, not to mention, almost 24/7 watch from Michael to make sure he was okay, which was nice).

Michael pulls a face, humming as he puts the money down on the bar counter for their drinks, catching them as they’re slid down the scratched up wood before passing one to Gavin, “yeah, that wasn't… that wasn't fun.”

They’re both quiet for a moment until Gavin sways into him and gently rocks him like a cradle, “i'm alright now, boi, no need to worry.” his thigh still twinges with a sharp pain when the weather turns, but Michael doesn't need to know that.

Michael nods and smiles down at him before leaning closer.

They drink and chat for a while until Michael’s wallet is empty of cash, then Gavin decides to pull out a wad of bills, ordering ten shots to split between them both.

That’s where things get a little blurry, really.

Gavin remembers putting down the last shot glass and leaning in close to Michael, he remembers going over to Geoff’s table and sitting with him and talking about something random (Gavin can specifically remember Geoff’s expression, one that says  _ boy, am i gonna hold this against you! _ ) before being pulled away by Michael. They dance, they press close to each other, and then suddenly they’re outside, the night air cool on his flushed skin.

Michael is close, so close, his freckles are like stars and his glasses are glinting in the bright streetlights and Gavin really just wants to touch his face, so he does. He reaches up and touches his fingertips along the arches of Michael’s cheekbones, trailing along to tuck some stray hairs behind his ear.

“You need a haircut,” Gavin murmurs, looking everywhere but Michael’s eyes, “s’all… long. Really curly.”   


Michael nods, shuffling closer and pressing Gavin against the brick wall, “you don't like it?” his breath smells like whiskey and cough medicine and mint, and Gavin wants to lick the taste from behind his teeth.

“I do like it,” he says, sliding his hand into the hair on the back of Michael’s hair, “that’s the issue, i wanna play with it all the time.”

Alcohol has never really helped his filter, to be honest.

“I’ll keep it long for ya,” he says, grinning and brushing their noses, “i like distracting you, you know that,” Gavin blushes when Michael takes his other hand and presses a kiss against his palm before placing that one in his hair too, then putting his own hands on Gavin’s hips.

Gavin grins a little, eyes going lidded, “that’s not very professional, Michael.”

“When have I ever been professional?”

Gavin shrugs weakly. He’s sick of the small talk, and he’s always been one to indulge himself, so he leans in close and presses a soft kiss to Michael’s mouth. Michael’s hands tighten around his waist and he can't help but kiss a little deeper and tug Michael’s hair slightly, tilting his own head.

They continue like that for a while, Michael getting a little rougher with each passing minute and pressing Gavin against the wall more and more until Gavin gasps a little, pulling at his shirt. Michael trails kisses down Gavin’s neck, and the taller man can't help but laugh and roll his eyes, biting his lip when Michael starts to leave a mark just under the collar of his shirt, against his binder.

“Fuck,” Michael slurs, grinning a little as he kisses his way back up, “m’drunk as fuck, Gav…” Gavin nods wordlessly, curling his toes in his boots as he plays with Michael’s hair a little more. A slight nip at the hinge of his jaw has Gavin tilting his head, and he can't help his shudder when Michael’s breath fans over his ear, “you’re drunk too, yeah? This is just…” a pause, Michael noses behind Gavin’s ear with a low hum, “two drunk bros making out, yeah? S’nothin…”

Gavin frowns a little before nodding slowly, curling his fingers around the collar of Michael’s jacket and tugging a little, “yeah, boi, just two… two bros.” the words taste like acid on his tongue, cancerous and bitter.

Michael kisses him again, and Gavin’s heart clenches in his chest.

\--

Gavin is sat in the back of a van, laptop on the floor along with a set of battery packs, another laptop that’s currently closed and a pile of harddrives he taped together. He’s alone right now, and when the van swerves a little he slams his hand against the wall separating him from the front of the van, “hey! Careful!”

“ _ Sorry _ ,” Jeremy’s reply comes through the coms device in his ear, “ _ there was a cat in the road, Gav, i couldn't hit it! _ ”

Gavin sighs and types on his laptop, “how far away are we?”

“ _ Just a couple more minutes. _ ”

The thing is, Gavin knows Michael is also in the front. They haven't really been the same since the night at the bar, and in no way is it Michael’s fault. Gavin knows he’s been avoidant, only being near Michael when someone else is in the room, but after waking up fully clothed and in bed with Michael and the way that  _ lovely _ kissing session took a nose dive at a handful of words, he’s less inclined to embarrass himself around Michael right now. Especially since Michael always has this determined look in his eyes whenever Gavin just so happens to be alone near him (he’ll come up with an excuse and scuttle off, though, the liar that he is).

There’s a couple more turns in the van, and then they’re coming to a slow stop. Some of Gavin’s equipment slides along the bare floor and he pulls a face, but otherwise he says nothing.

“ _ We’re heading out,” _ Jeremy says, and Gavin can hear the doors to the front of the van opening and closing twice over, “ _ give us a shout if you need something, we’ll be close by. _ ”

“I know,” Gavin sighs softly, “I can remember the plan, you’ll be near the van unless they call for you.”

Gavin types for a moment, brows furrowed - the firewalls are proving more difficult than the beta one he had managed to strong arm off of someone that owed him favours. He adjusts one leg and continues to work until there’s a knock on the van door and it opens just a crack to reveal Michael (and Jeremy, who’s looking rather impatient behind him with a hand on his holster).

“Gavin,” he says, a hand over his mic. Gavin decides to turn his away from his mouth for the time being, blushing and raising his brows, “i just…” Michael pulls a face, looking down for a few seconds until Jeremy whistles at him, snapping his gaze back up with a determined frown, “stay safe, yeah? Let's… let’s go for drinks after this, just you and me. We could go to that, uh, the nice open air bar in the nice part of town, with the white and blue floor lights.”   


The bar that Michael had never really wanted to go to, the one that Gavin knows makes him feel vulnerable and unguarded and like there’s someone behind him with a knife in hand despite the high class clientele not really wanting blood on the dancefloor. They had gone once because Gavin wanted to, but quickly left when Michael showed his discomfort, retreating to one of their regular bars - Gavin never complained, he understood on a cellular level that need to escape and hide away when that discomfort rose, so he smiled and nodded and bought their first round drinks in their usual bar.

Gavin’s heart leaps into his throat and he gulps, eyes going wide before he sits up a little straighter, “we’ll talk about it after. Stay safe out there, Michael.”

Michael frowns and his shoulders slump a little, but he simply nods and closes the door to the van as he leaves.

Readjusting his mic, Gavin goes back to work, slouching down close to the screen and typing out line after line of code, editing the system’s firewalls and doing his best to fuck with the cameras without anything going too wrong.

“Vagabond, King Pin, ready when you are,” Gavin says, opening the lid of the second laptop and switching the camera feeds over to that one, leaving it near the foot he’s extended out. He can see Geoff and Ryan on the camera as they get near their access point, a back door to the building - an old law firm they're robbing because there’s a rather notable cluster of crooked lawyers in there, and all those files and cases are surely worth a pretty penny.

Geoff looks up at the camera and flashes a thumbs up, “ _ ready _ ,” he says, his coms are a little quieter because of the distance, but Gavin can still hear him clearly, “ _ on your word. _ ”

Gavin waits a few seconds, watches a guard go round a corner on a different screen before nodding gently to himself, “heist start, boys. head in.”

The back door opens on another camera angle, and Gavin can see the two of them walking into the building, shutting the door behind them carefully. He continues his work with the firewalls, frowning heavily to himself while the others chatter idly over the ear pieces.

Gavin mumbles a few choice words under his breath and presses the backspace half a dozen times, heart picking up when he notices Geoff and Ryan nearing the door he’s trying to hack into now - it leads to a floor of the more morally ambiguous lawyers, so it’s clear why it’s under such tight lock and key.

“Skip it,” Gavin says, typing faster, “get it on the way down, I can't get through yet.”

Geoff turns and stares at the camera facing that door and Gavin doesn't look at the feed, knowing the frustrated look coming through on the screen without having to look, “ _ Gavin, I thought you said you could do this. _ ”

“That was a  _ beta _ , Geoff, I'm doing my best!”

“ _ You’d better start improving, then-” _

“ _ Hey _ ,” Michael interrupts, “ _ it’s not his fault, just go to the next floor _ .”

Gavin blushes, embarrassment and shame, and he sighs out heavily as Geoff starts getting frustrated with him too, “ _ butt out, loverboy- _ ”

“ _ Geoff!” _ Jack's voice rings out over the headpieces and, ever the voice of reason in these types of situations, they all go silent at her words, “ _ just drop it, Gavin can keep working while you go to the next floor up. Chill out, nothing’s gone wrong yet, and nothing  _ will _ go wrong.” _

Michael mutters something, but otherwise Gavin watches as Geoff and Ryan continue through the building on the cameras. His heart is racing a little as he works at the code, and he almost doesn't notice the guards on the cameras.

“Duck into the door on your left, it’s an empty storage room, now,” he says, frowning heavily. They do so, and just as the door clicks shut quietly a pair of guards round the corner, chatting casually. They go down a flight of stairs, and Gavin chews on his thumb as he says, slightly muffled, “go.”

“ _ Jeremy, _ ” Jack says,  _ “I need you over here real quick, is that okay?” _

“Sure thing, i’ll be right over.”

Gavin can hear the crunch of asphalt under Jeremy’s boots as he jogs past the van and through some alleyways, and as he retreats Gavin manages to finish the code off. He keeps this information to himself, waiting for Geoff and Ryan to finish in the first set of offices. Once they’ve made their second set of rounds, bags stuffed full of papers and hard drives and the occasional shiny item, Gavin presses a button on his coms, “floor below is ready for you, gents.”

There’s no response, but Gavin assumes they’ve heard it, so he starts working on the police scanners and the local area, checking for any disturbances. He’s been working for nearly ten minutes before he looks to the camera feed and realises that Geoff and Ryan are on the same floor, and that they apparently haven’t even changed  _ rooms _ .

“ _ Golden boy? We free to go down yet? _ ”

Gavin’s heart jumps to his throat, and he clicks the button on his coms again, “gents? Can you hear me?”

There’s no response, and Gavin curses gently under his breath before he slams both of the lids down on his laptops, frowning heavily. There’s a loud thud outside of the van, and his pulse speeds up rapidly. He takes the gun from the back of his jeans and pulls himself to rest on his haunches. Another thud, a shout, a gunshot. 

_ Michael is out there _ .

Gavin stands and forces the door to the van open, but before he can even raise his gun someone’s pulling him out roughly and forcing him to his knees. As soon as a hand tangles itself in his hair, Gavin struggles wildly, teeth bared as he swings his arms back to try and hit someone. Gavin can see that Michael is doing the same across from him, nose broken and a bruise already blooming like a gruesome flower along his jaw. 

One of the people takes out a stick (it looks strangely like a baton, and Gavin hasn't ever really seen one in person before) and cracks Michael in the back of the head with it. Gavin cries out, eyes wide as he reaches out uselessly for him; the butt of a gun collides against the top of his own head, and it leaves him seeing stars as he falls limp.

The gravel scratches at the exposed skin of his hands and face as he’s dragged down the road, and he blinks sluggishly as the person lifts him and dumps him into the dark trunk of the car. Michael is already in there, and the door slams shut before he has a chance to make any type of noise.

Gavin’s eyes are unfocused as the car pulls into drive, he tries his best to clear the blur from his vision and focus on Michael but there’s too much swerving from the car. He tugs at his arms and shudders gently at the eerie red glow from the brake lights. He nudges his knees against Michael’s, watching as his head rolls and a soft groan escapes him.

“Michael,” he whispers hoarsely, “wake up, Michael, please,” he says. The car bounces harshly and Gavin nearly yelps when his shoulder knocks uncomfortably hard against the trunk lid.

Gavin curls up a little and squeezes his eyes shut to prevent the oncoming nausea from the bumpy ride. The back of his head keeps knocking against something firm and from the constant pain to the sticky blood that’s spreading into his hair, he just wants to go home.

He rests his head down and, with a shaky sigh, closes his eyes.

\--

Gavin comes to in a dingy, run down cellar. He immediately takes stock of the situation.

There's tight zip-ties around his wrists and ankles. The room is cold. His head is throbbing and there’s blood in his mouth. Any memory after the job starting is a black blur, smearing his thoughts and forcing his stomach to turn. Gavin closes his eyes and counts to ten calmly before tilting his head back, flinching when it comes into contact with another body. He squirms and wriggles, trying his best to contort his body to catch a glimpse of the other person. He manages to see a flash of dark curls.

“Michael?” his voice cracks, throat sore and tender, “Michael, boi, wake up…”

No response.

Gavin grits his teeth hard, digging his fingers into the arms of the chair to try and channel his panic somewhere else. He rocks his chair, leaning forwards before swinging his body back, and tips it onto its back legs, knocking into Michael once, twice, three times before getting a response.

“Mhm…” Michael slurs lightly, it’s the best thing Gavin’s heard since he woke, “knock it off…”

Gavin laughs weakly, “oh fuck, thank god, Michael…” he sniffs and hiccups another laugh. Some water drips onto the floor from the moulding ceiling. The room smells dank and moist, like an old bathroom. 

“Where…” Gavin turns his head to watch Michael, trying to assess Michael’s state. From what he can see, the other man is much more disoriented, and there's blood caked into his hair.

“I don't know,” he twists back around, staring at the wall, “i have no fucking clue.”

The door swings open, handle cracking against the wall and bouncing back, only to be caught by a hand in the way.

The man that comes through is… strangely normal looking. Brown hair tied back into a small bun, body slim but soft, hands uncalloused, Gavin decides he might be new, or someone they keep specifically for these types of jobs.

Gavin prays it's the first option.

Two other people follow him, a tall woman, older and decidedly more hench than the first man with streaks of grey shining through her dark hair, and the usual brutish man, frowning and gripping his gun like a lifeline as his muscles threaten to tear through his shirt sleeves.

“Afternoon,” the first man smiles, pulling over another chair from behind Gavin’s line of sight and taking a seat on it backwards, graceful, “name’s Blake.”

Gavin stays silent.

“Well, it seems we’re at an impasse already,” ‘Blake’ obviously isn't one for small talk, clasping his hands together gently and resting his chin on his knuckles, tilting his head innocently, “id love to have a conversation with you, nice and casual, and just let you both go. But we both know you wont talk, right?” Gavin bites the inside of his lip, narrowing his eyes, “and your buddy, he, uh, seems a little incapacitated. So he’s out of the question.”

Gavin closes his eyes, huffing out a harsh breath through his nose and clenching the arms of the chair tighter, nails scratching along it gently with a grating noise.

“Oh,” Blake smiles, “sore spot, huh? You must really like him, yeah?”

He narrows his eyes and looks to the side without a word. It's not serious, and Michael obviously doesn't  _ want _ it serious. The occasional drunken kiss doesn't count, it’s just two friends having a bit of a grope, they've already agreed.

Right?

“That’s pretty dangerous, you know,” the man continues, and Gavin can't help but shoot him a venomous look. Gavin’s already had this talk. “Anything could happen to him at any time, that would be terrible, right?”

Gavin continues the silent treatment, keeping his breathing slow and steady. Blake looks to the woman and nods gently; she steps up and backhands him harshly, splitting his lip and snapping his head to the side. Gavin coughs brokenly and winces at the taste of blood, digging his fingers into the splintering wood of the chair to ground himself.

“I’d like some information, if you would,” the man begins to walk circles around the two of them, and the hair rises on the back of Gavin’s neck from the primal fear that lances through him, “I mean, it would probably help your situation, right? Scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours.” he trails a hand along Michael’s shoulder, and the hinge of Blake’s thumb brushes against the back of Gavin’s neck.

He wants to scream, he wants to snarl and shriek and shout  _ get your fucking hands off of him _ , but that could make everything so much worse, so he stays quiet. He coils tight like a spring and holds in all his tiny whimpers.

“If you're not going to talk, I'm gonna have to give you some incentive, right?”

Blake looks up at one of the guards, and suddenly they're both behind Gavin. The heat of Michael’s back against his own retreats, and his blood runs cold, “no, don't-”

“It's too late, and you know this is your fault.”

The first punch echoes into the room, the harsh sound of flesh hitting flesh, bones cracking together, and the intake of breath from Michael, soft dripping sounds starting up again, but not from the ceiling. The punches keep coming, and once the guard obviously grows tired of using their fists, Gavin can hear them take out their gun and take out the clip, emptying the chamber, before using the butt of the gun on Michael’s face, arms, shoulders.

Gavin can only stand it for a few minutes, flinching and curling into himself more and more before shaking his head rapidly, clenching his teeth tight and letting out a raw shout, “stop,  _ stop _ ! Leave him  _ alone _ !” he thrashes in his chair, eyes burning as tears rise but don't fall.

The beating stops, and now Gavin can only hear Michael’s pained wheezes and his own cut off whimpers. Blake’s heels click against the concrete floor as he circles back around and stops in front of Gavin, smiling serenely, “it’s okay, don't worry,” a gentle hand settles on Gavin’s cheek, and he flinches away slightly; the hand follows, and a warm, soft thumb presses against his bottom lip with a tender reverence, “it’s over now.”

Gavin nods carefully, the sentence slowly sinking in;  _ it's over now _ . A single tear escapes, and Blake croons softly as he presses his lips against Gavin’s cheek, kissing away the tear, “don't cry, its okay.” his other hand trails down Gavin’s right bicep, then slipping under and pressing against his chest and ribs. Despite the shock of pain from the bruises that are blooming like roses, the movement is oddly tender. His hands then gently slide to his chest, pressing down against the straps of his binder and slowly dragging his hands downwards.

Gavin knows what he’s doing. He feels… sick.

He turns his head away and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, blocking out where the hands touch him, how they touch him, how the knot in his stomach twists tighter and tighter. He thinks about scratching out Blake’s eyes, he thinks of breaking free of the ties around his wrists and ankles and slamming Blake’s head against the floor over and over  _ stop fucking touching me, stop touching me, leave me alone! _

It’s nearly ten minutes later when a small beep goes off, Blake’s phone. The man pulls away to check it and sighs out; when Gavin dares to peek from beneath his lashes, the man seems to be pouting.

“It seems i have to go, Gavin,” he says, smiling. There’s something sharp to it, predatory. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll miss you while I'm gone.” Blake slips his phone into his back pocket and touches Gavin once more, nails digging into his collar and scratching along the tanned skin, causing raised red lines and a few drops of blood to bead to the surface. The heeled shoes click against the floor, the two guards follow him out obediently.

The door clicks shut gently, and Gavin breaks down into tears.

The sobs wrack his body, they're animalistic keens that echo in the room, exposing himself to his own weakness. He sobs, and he bawls, and he  _ begs _ . The pain is like cutting at an old scar or picking at a wound, exposing nerves and tendons and all he can think is,  _ fuck _ , he’s so weak, he’s weak and disgusting and everywhere that Blake touched him needs to be bleached or cut away from his flesh.

Time passes. The tears stop. He can still hear Michael’s wheezing where he’s passed out in the chair.

\--

Gavin hasn't managed to close his eyes for more than five minutes in the unknown amount of time he’s been down there. The lights flicker in a pattern that’s too irregular for him to ignore, and water has started to drip from the corner of the room down onto the tiled floor.

The door opens up and reveals Blake, but he’s alone this time. He’s wringing his hands together, a gentle smile on his face like they’re friends.

“Hey there, Gavin,” he says, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms casually, “having a good time?”

Gavin stays quiet, frowning softly and staring at his own knees. Blake sighs out and takes something from his pockets, then there’s the distinct sound of a lighter flicking open and clicking on; Blake inhales deeply before sighing out, and Gavin grimaces at the smell.

“Thought I'd come visit you alone, ask you about your job” he sighs out another puff of smoke, clearing his throat slightly, “sometimes it’s hard to open up with others around, y’know? Thought maybe you’d talk if it was just us.”   


Gavin chews on his lip, lifting his head and looking at Blake briefly before turning away, “no.”

Blake’s shoes echo loudly in the room as he steps closer, leaning down with a soft hum, “you sure? I’m trying to be nice,” he crushes the cigarette out on the back of Gavin’s hand, and he hisses slightly as he flexes his hand before sighing shakily, “i mean, you wouldn't want me to hurt your friend over there, right?”

From the lack of response Gavin assumes that Michael must still be unconscious, which he’s more than thankful for, praying to every deity he’s ever thought of believing in, “i…”

Something glimmers in Blake’s eyes and he leans closer, settling a hand on Gavin’s face with a soft smile, “you can tell me anything; warehouses, dealers, suppliers, i swear i wont snitch on ya,” he grins and winks, and he must think that he’s so fucking  _ suave _ .

Gavin isn't falling for anything.

He turns his head slowly, gulping before opening his mouth, “there’s…” he whips his head to the side and digs his teeth into Blake’s hand, biting down as hard as he can. The taste of copper fills his mouth and Blake shouts loudly, trying to pull away. Gavin bites harder before pulling away, mouth dripping Blake’s blood, “there’s  _ no _ fucking chance in  _ hell _ that i’d tell you anything, you absolute  _ cunt _ .”

Blake bares his teeth in a snarl, reaching his good hand back and taking - oh, Gavin was wondering when he’d see another one of those - a baton from his belt, whipping it to the side and extending it out to its full length. He manages to close his eyes before the blackened steel strikes his face. The pain is like a hot streak of fire, his own blood filling his mouth now and one of his molars coming loose. 

Gavin laughs hoarsely, giving Blake a bloody grin as he tilts his head, “knew I could break you, always do.”

Pure fury crosses Blake’s face before he continues to strike down with the baton, painting long lines of bruises across his body. He changes his position slightly and suddenly the baton cracks down against Gavin’s chest, leaving him wheezing and struggling for breath.

“That should teach you a fucking lesson, bitch,” Blake says, baring his teeth before storming out, baton in hand. Once the door closes, he takes a minute to try and catch his breath, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Gavin tries to breathe deeper, but the tightness of his binder is constricting his movements and suddenly it feels like he’s about to suffocate from the overbearing panic in his system.

Gavin looks around wildly, eyes big, before he begins to rock his chair. He starts slow, tipping only slightly and doing his best to break the bindings on his ankles. All he manages to do is cut into his own skin, blood soaking his socks. He looks down, attempting to lift his legs and frowning slightly when he does, the ties moving freely with them.

He rocks more, tipping back further and trying to force his legs off the end. He almost manages to on the fourth try, but he ends up overtipping and striking the ground hard, head cracking against the floor. He bites his lip to hide any noise, but the pain lances throughout his whole body and he has to wait a few moments for the pain to recede, slowly becoming just a dull ache behind his eyes. He pants and whines slightly before bending his right leg, bringing it up slow and careful to his body. Gavin takes off his right shoe. He rips away the insole, tugging out the padding and stuffing before finding what he needs.

A razorblade.

He tilts his head back in relief before getting to work. He holds it carefully between his middle and index finger, running the sharp edge over the plastic ties over and over. He occasionally slips, the blade digging into his wrist, but he's too determined to focus on that. The tie snaps away after a long time -  _ too long _ , Gavin thinks idly - and he roughly starts at the next, sawing desperately and slipping more than the last (he can hear Geoff chastising him in the back of his mind,  _ you can't save him if you're bleeding out on the floor, dumbass _ ), then forcing his wrist through the rest of the zip tie.

He stands and rips the lace from his shoe before taking the lace off of his other one, too. He ties the ends together and winds them tight. He goes over to Michael and touches his face lightly, frowning and gritting his teeth before moving away, crouching down behind the door.

Gavin waits.

\--

The first person through the door is the female guard.

He doesn't hesitate. She walks into the room, curses, and he jumps onto her back. Gavin wraps the laces around her throat and  _ pulls _ . He can feel her chest heave as she chokes and struggles, her hands slap and scratch and scrabble at his face, she tries to slam him against the wall. No dice. She manages a well aimed punch to his ribs, but he only yelps and clings on tighter.

She collapses onto the chair, before rolling off, eyes rolling back into her skull and her last breath barely even escaping.

Gavin pulls himself out from under her, hands shaking, and goes for her gun. He checks the clip.

Five rounds.

He clicks it back into place wordlessly, looking around the room for another makeshift weapon before closing in on the chair. Gavin slides the gun under his waistband and stands, lifting the chair by its back and swinging,  _ hard _ , against the ground. It shatters to pieces easily, but Gavin’s eyes immediately go to the leg. It’s the largest piece, and has a rusted, brutal looking nail through both sides.

Bending down to pick it up, he’s almost blindsided by the dizziness that slams into him like a truck. He has to lean himself against the wall to be able to go low enough and reach the leg. He stands up straight, sniffling and wiping his face on his sleeve - he manages to smear blood on his face from his wrists, but he doesn't care. Gavin looks around the room once more, trying desperately to find anything else before seeing - 

A camera. In the top corner of the room. If no one’s come by now then there’s obviously no one manning the monitors, but Gavin shoots it down anyway, leaving him with four bullets. It’s a strange kind of catharsis that comes from the action, but he’s out of the room before he can dwell on it for much longer. 

He climbs the stairs up to the main area of the house, and realises it must be some sort of holiday cabin. There’s boxes of old christmas decorations stacked up in the corner of the living room, and the air as a strange smell to it, like moth-eaten clothes or an old book. A shudder crawls through him, and he pads silently into the room, crouching down low. The same guard from earlier is sprawled out on the couch, head tilted back as he snores loud enough to wake the dead.

_ Maybe his lady friend will wake up _ , the thought makes him cover his mouth with his palm to hide a broken giggle, heart racing faster at the thought of her coming back from the dead and -

Focus. Gavin crouch walks behind the couch, his feet landing almost silently on the carpet. He makes his way to the front of the couch, standing tall over him for a few moments before dropping the chair leg to the floor and straddling the stocky man, pressing his hand down against the stranger’s mouth and nose. He takes the razor blade from his front pocket and slashes it against the tender flesh of his throat, watching wordlessly with blank eyes as blood sprays up and coats his front; the man’s eyes flash open briefly, and he manages to put up a struggle for a few moments before bleeding out and going limp. 

Gavin climbs off and picks the chair leg back up, walking through the house and up the stairs carelessly. He slips the blade back into his pocket and takes the gun from his waistband. There’s a single guard posted at one of the doors, and Gavin assumes that Blake is inside. He doesn't hesitate before shooting the man, taking his gun from him and taking the few bullets that are left - he's got seven, now. 

Gavin walks into the room with a blank face, sliding the gun back under his waistband and tightening his grip on the chair leg, splinters digging in under his fingernails. He’s saturated up to his arms in blood and he’s briefly distracted by the way his skin peels from the wood when he adjusts his grip; usually, he would be gagging and groaning from the smell and the feel of blood drying tacky on his own skin, still warm, but he can't feel much of anything right now.

Blake is stood on the balcony, cigarette balanced nimbly between the delicate v of his bony fingers and phone in his other hand, wire leading up from the phone and to a set of headphones clasped tight over his ears. He takes a slow drag, smoke rising in the midday air. Gavin tightens his fingers around the splintering wood. His shoulders ache lightly, but the adrenaline and pure, unadulterated fury in his body dampens the sensation.

He walks over slowly, bare feet padding lightly on the soft carpet. Gavin catches sight of himself in the reflection of the window, and he doesn't mind what he sees. He swings the leg, and a nail in the chair leg catches when it strikes Blake’s face, biting into the flesh and tearing through it savagely when Gavin pulls away. Blake lets out a loud shout of pain, falling to the floor easily. His blood stains the cream carpet a sickly burgundy.

Gavin, standing over his still-writhing body, doesn't hesitate to swing again. He breaks the man’s nose, and he swings too fast immediately after and accidentally hooks the nail under his clavicle, he rips it away and thinks of the scratches on his own collar, how he wants to  _ ruin _ this man.

Again; the nail hooks slightly against the man’s orbital bone, he has to wrench it out, sending a sickening spray of blood over the room.

Again; he isn't moving any more, his forehead caves in slightly, bone and flesh splattering soundlessly onto the carpet.

Again; what type of carpet is it? It’s soft under Gavin’s feet, he likes how it feels when he curls his toes. The wood gets stuck again, but he pulls it away.

Again. Again. Again. Again. 

The revenge beating is cathartic, Gavin finds. All of the stress and pain of the last day or two seem to leave his body with each swing. He grits his teeth and pulls out the gun on his waist band - three shots into the man’s chest. Gavin stares down into the mess that’s left where Blake’s head should be, gripping the wood tighter before stumbling backwards and turning his head away.

Too much. The sight is too much, and Gavin wants to forget that this happened. But then he remembers the camera, and he looks up to find another one watching him. Slowly, he leaves the room and stalks down the hall, checking each door until he finds their makeshift surveillance room. There’s a woman with her feet up on the desk, head tilted back as she snores quietly.

Gavin doesn't hesitate before swinging the leg down and tearing through the soft flesh of her cheek, dragging her down onto the floor before pulling his gun and shooting her quickly. He sits down in front of the monitors and frowns softly, eyes lidded.

He should just delete all of the footage, wipe it from the hard drive and make sure no one else knows about it, then wipe his own memory with a copious amount of alcohol. Instead, he stops all of the camera feeds, and emails himself the files. He wipes the computer when he’s done, and stands back up, walking over to the door.

Gavin drags himself back downstairs, rushing himself when he hears groaning coming from the cellar. He arrives to the sight of Michael, a little more lucid and in a lot more pain, struggling in his bindings. Gavin smiles brokenly and stumbles over, taking the razor from his pocket and cutting at Michael’s ties, “oh god, Michael, boi, are you with me?”

“Fuck, what happened?” Michael looks around, eyes unfocused. Gavin tries to not squirm when he feels his gaze on his own body, “you're soaked in blood…”

“Not mine.” he says bluntly, the coldness in his voice surprising himself. He finishes cutting through the zipties and rubs Michael’s wrists gently, encouraging blood flow to start back up. He does the same to his feet, hands starting to shake gently. Eventually, Gavin stands up, helping Michael stand and giving him something to lean against, “we’re going home now. I'm taking you home.”

Michael nods slowly and clings on tight, Gavin sighs in relief at the feeling of him moving around. The unnatural stillness of him earlier was disconcerting, and he’s pleased that it’s over now.

_ It's over now _ .

Bile rises in Gavin’s throat and he frowns, slowly walking with Michael and leading him through the cabin and towards the front door. He pauses before opening it, looking to Michael with a soft frown, “can you shoot?”

The other pulls a face, scoffing hoarsely, “‘course i can fuckin’ shoot, Gav…”

Gavin doesn't say anything, not having the energy within himself to fight Michael, and sighs as he ends up pressing the stolen gun into Michael’s grip wordlessly. He opens the door and slowly leads them both out of the cabin. The sun is shining brightly in the sky, and Gavin can't help but think that right now he should be in their rooftop pool drinking beers, not covered in gore and feeling like he’s going to die at any second. 

Gavin walks over to one of the cars that’s parked at the front of the cabin, looking around before leaning Michael up against the side of it, “keep an eye out.” he doesn't wait for a response before tucking the chair leg under his arm and using his elbow to shatter the window. The alarm blares loudly, lights flashing and illuminating the scene in the living room. Gavin reaches in and unlocks the door, pulling himself in and kicking at the dashboard under the wheel, then cracking it open and tugging a handful of wires through. 

He takes out the razor from his pocket and carefully shaves some of the wires bare. He touches two of them together and accidentally shocks himself, sucking his thumb with a soft  _ shit _ as the engine rumbles to life and the alarm stops.

He climbs back out and tugs open the back door, helping Michael in, “stay awake.”

“I know,” he says simply, looking at Gavin with something akin to concern in his eyes, “don't crash the car.”

Gavin doesn't laugh, stepping back and slamming the door shut before he can see Michael’s confused frown. He pulls himself into the front seat, looking out at the cabin for a few moments before carefully reversing out of the parking area.

They drive in silence for a while, once they reach an actual road Michael clambers into the passenger seat, wincing and grunting, “fuck, ow.”

Gavin looks at him in alarm, then snaps his gaze back to the road, “be careful.”

“I'm fine, dude,” Michael frowns, reaching a hand out slowly, “are you? Cause you don't look it.”

Gavin flinches away from the touch and frowns heavily for a few moments at his own reaction, chastising himself as he smiles tiredly and unconsciously speeds the car up, lips peeling uncomfortably from the congealed blood around his teeth, “yeah, boi. I'm… I'm fine.”

Michael gives him a skeptical look but sighs, instead distracting himself by opening the glovebox and rummaging through it, “you’d think those fucks would leave their phone in their cars, unprofessional.”

Gavin laughs weakly, more of a small huff, and nods slowly, “its fine,” they pass a sign, and Gavin manages to read it as it flashes by, “we’ll be back soon, its fine.”

“They’ll need to know we’re coming,” Michael argues, frowning softly, “they’re probably worried sick.”

He tightens his fingers on the wheel and says nothing, chewing his lip and shuddering at the taste of blood, the pain grounding him slightly.

_ It's over now _ .

\--

Opening the door to the penthouse is like standing in front of an avalanche without moving; inescapable dread, but also a strange calm that settles over him. He drove nearly ten hours just to get them home, and he’s not going to stop here, not with Michael and the wheezy rattle that trails every breath. Gavin carefully helps Michael in, kicking the door shut behind them both and flinching when Geoff barrels around the corner with Jack in tow.

“Fuck, where have you been?” Geoff’s immediately firing off questions, hands hovering as if he doesn't know where to put them, “it’s been two days, what happened?”

Michael grins and slowly eases himself from Gavin’s grip, and he watches as Michael slowly limps over to the couch, “why, did’ya miss us, old man?”

“Of course- wait, don't fucking sit, you’re gonna get blood-  _ Michael!” _

Jack stays near him, and Gavin wrings his fingers together nervously, “I'm…” Gavin starts aimlessly, frowning soft, “i'm gonna go clean up.”

“Let me come help,” Jack smiles soft and kind, reaching a hand out, but Gavin flinches away reflexively and inhales sharply.

“No,” he says firmly; Michael and Geoff look over from the couch so he forces himself to calm down, taking a step away from jack, “no, i’ll be fine.”

Jack hesitates before nodding slowly, giving a smaller smile now, “okay, well… call if you need us, okay?”

Gavin nods quickly and rushes to make his way out of the room; he grabs some clothes from his bedroom, pulling out a pair of old, ratty sweatpants and a baggy shirt before backing out and going into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself. Stripping himself down is more stressful than he anticipates, each bruise that’s revealed seeming to throb harder now that he knows it’s there. The scratches on his collar are an irritated red, and he can't help but touch them lightly.

_ It's over now _ .

His stomach lurches and he can't stop himself this time; he collapses to his knees and clutches the toilet bowl as he vomits, coughing and choking as the taste remains, a horrible mix of blood and stomach acid.

Gavin manages to stop himself from sobbing, instead just flushing and pulling himself to his feet. He turns the shower on and steps in while it’s still ice cold, twisting the dial so that it slowly climbs to the highest temperature. The sensation is numbing, and the scalding water turns his skin a flushed pink colour. He simply stands under the spray, staring down at the drain and watching as the water turns red and pink.

Most of his injuries are bruises, tender and sore but less prominent now that the hot water is burning his skin; instead, the cuts from where he sawed at the zip ties become even more painful, and the sound of the shower makes his head throb. He slowly reaches up and touches along the back of his head - there’s a raised knot, and he presses against it slightly before continuing to check for anything more serious. There’s a split where a cut obviously is, but it’s no longer bleeding.

Gavin finishes checking and thumbs at the gouges in his wrist before scrubbing his arms down, watching as the flaky blood turns watery and washes down the drain. He steps out when the water is completely clear, and even then he only wraps a towel around his body and sits on the toilet seat, leaving the shower on to fog up the room.

He stares down at his filthy clothes with a blank face. The shirt is unsalvageable, coated in blood and viscera, and the pants are in a similar state. Only a single shoe made it out of the cabin, and the lace is missing. One sock is bloodstained, while the other is mostly fine, apart from the top edge. 

Gavin blinks once, twice, three times before picking up a cloth from next to the sink and wetting it gently. He runs it over the welts and pressure rubs around his ankles, then on his wrists. The cold cloth is a stark contrast to the hot flesh of his wrists, and he can't help but flinch a little at the feeling; small drops of blood soak into the fibres slightly, and he stares at it before running the short nail of his thumb along the inside of the cut. The pain sharpens his mind slightly, and he can't stop himself from continuing, pressing his thumb deeper and deeper-

“Gavin?”

He jolts at Jack’s voice, hand jerking apart and tearing the cut open a little more. He hisses, clenching his eyes shut before answering with a hoarse, “yeah?”

“You okay in there?” she asks, Gavin can tell she’s leaning against the door.

He looks around for his clothes before remembering the state they’re in - he spies his binder in the mess, bloodstained and filthy, “yeah, i, um…” he stands up carefully and cracks the door open, looking up at her; he has to keep blinking to keep his limp hair out of his eyes, he’s quiet when he speaks, “can i have some clothes, please? My… uh… my binder…”

Realisation flashes in her eyes, and he’s so fucking thankful for how understanding and caring Jack is, “oh, of course, hon.”

Gavin closes the door quietly as she walks away and sits back down on the toilet lid. He looks back at the bruising and rubs from the zip ties around his wrists and notices the cut he was thumbing earlier has started bleeding more. He looks around before taking the first aid kit from above the mirror and opening it quietly. Gavin takes out a roll of gauze, some tape, and an ice pack for his head. He carefully wraps his ankles up, then his wrists, taping the ends of the bandages down and adjusting their positions.

Gavin leans forwards with his elbows on his bruised knees and stares at the ice pack in his hands. 

He doesn't know why, but he just feels so  _ tired _ .

Maybe it was driving for nearly an entire day, maybe it was the emotional torture and the pure adrenaline that came from killing all those men, or maybe he’s done with this.

The last thought shocks him, and he knows it isn't true in any way. Gavin won't be leaving the crew unless he’s buried six feet under, but the thought of just settling down and living alone, no more pain or sadness or anger, it’s very tempting.

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and Gavin adjusts his towel before standing up. He opens the door and smiles weakly at jack, “thank you, love…”

She smiles comfortingly and nods, “don't worry about it,” she looks around before leaning closer, smile becoming a little pitiful as a crinkle forms at the corners of her eyes, “can I come in, Gav? I know you’re probably fine but,” she laughs gently, “you know how i am.”

He looks up at her and chews on his lip, wincing gently at the taste of blood before nodding slowly and stepping away from the door. Jack is quick to come in and shut the door, tilting her head, “we called Jeremy and Ryan back, so they’re on their way, and Matt is working on Michael with lindsay and Geoff. Things are under control.”

Hearing that Michael is okay, that things are being handled by everyone else and he no longer has to be in control, it’s comforting. Tension drains from his body and his shoulders slump down an inch or so, but he tightens his grip on the towel, “okay, okay… good…”

She nods and smiles again, and Gavin sits on the edge of the bath so that she can do her thing. Throughout his time with the crew, Jack has always been a pillar for him. She’s funny and kind and she understands his  _ issues _ , so he’s always gone to her for down time. 

So why does he feel so nervous?

Jack can obviously tell, Gavin can see the look on her face that she so rarely gets, the look that says  _ I don't know what to do, but please let me help _ . he’s only able to count the amount of times he's seen it on one hand, and that makes him a little more anxious.

She gently touches along his neck, and he has to keep his eyes on her to know that it isn't  _ him _ , this isn't some torture session, Jack is just trying to help. Her hands go down and press against his ribs through the towel, and he can't stop the flinch this time.

Jack whips her hands away, “did that hurt?” she asks carefully, raising her brows. Gavin hesitates before nodding and thinning his lips.

“y-yeah,” he says carefully, looking away, “it… yeah. It hurt.”

She nods slowly, frowning, “okay, honey…” Jack checks the bandages gently before pushing herself to her knees, wincing and laughing softly, “m’not as young as i used to be, huh?” she grins gently, and Gavin gives her a weak smile in return, “you should be fine, just get some rest and take it easy, okay? We’ll get someone else to look at the papers for you; just get into bed and I'll bring some more ice packs your way.”

_ Oh god _ , he thinks,  _ the job, what happened with the job? _ He nods quickly despite his questions, just craving an empty room, “thanks jack.”

“No prob, honey.”

Gavin waits for the bathroom door to shut before taking the binder from the clean pile of clothes and tugging it on. It hurts his chest badly, so badly, but he powers through it and pulls on a baggy shirt to hide the way he slouches. He tugs on the boxers next, nearly falling over when he has to lift his foot.

He looks around tiredly before opening the door and walking out slowly. Everyone is still in the living room, Michael answering as many questions as he can in the state that he’s in, and Gavin takes his chance to sneak into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards and drawers.

“Gavin.”   


He flinches and tries to stand, going too fast and getting dizzy enough to nearly fall. Gavin catches himself on the counter and gulps, frowning. The person is still talking, but he can't hear them over the ringing in his ears. A hand settles on his bicep and he flinches, eyes going wider, “d-don't!”   


They pull away, and Gavin manages to calm himself down, wiping at his face.

“Gavin, are you okay?” Ryan is looking down at him with a sad expression, hands halfway between them both, “just breathe, okay?”   


He nods, frowning gently, “I'm fine, I'm fine…” he sniffs a little, looking up, “did you… did you want something?”

Ryan pulls a face, furrowing his brows after a few moments, “no, don't worry about it. What were you looking for?”

“Bin bags.”

“Ah,” he says, opening one of the drawers and pulling them out, “here. Are you okay?” he raises a brow gently and the thick layer of paint cracks slightly, Gavin focuses on that for a few seconds before blinking quickly and nodding.

“Oh,” he takes the bags and curls his fingers into them gently, “I'm fine, just… just cleaning up.”

Ryan frowns and leans against the counter, “that’s not what I'm asking.”   


Gavin knows. He knows what Ryan’s asking, knows what he’s  _ insinuating _ . The vagabond is their best interrogator, he handles anyone they’ve got in the backrooms, so  _ of course _ he’d know what might have happened. Of course he’d know what the mental scars could be. It’s both heartwarming and frustrating at the same time.

“I'm fine, just need a good night’s sleep and some rest.” Gavin smiles weakly,  _ falsely _ , and nods his head slightly before leaving the kitchen. He returns to the bathroom and cleans up all of the used bandage packages and the ruined clothes. Once the room is clean, he walks out and retreats into his own room, closing the door and locking it gently behind himself.

\--

apparently, according to the last week or two, sleep is a rather sneaky bastard after a few days of trauma. Gavin finds himself laid awake in bed more often than not, and the few times he does manage to sleep he’ll wake up on the floor tangled in his own thin sheets. The room is sweltering at night but opening the window makes it too cold, and then he thinks of that  _ room _ -

Gavin can't sleep, basically.

Running his hands through his hair, Gavin slouches over in the bed, legs tented up as he leans between them both to try and catch his breath, “it’s fine, it’s okay,” he mutters, gritting his teeth, “it’s over now…”   


That one sentence makes his eyes burn, and suddenly he's choking back tears because,  _ god _ , it’ll never be over, will it?

Gavin digs his nails into his palms and sucks in a few rapid breaths, in and out much too fast but otherwise he won't be able to  _ breathe _ . His ribs ache despite his binder being draped across the chair across the room, and he can't help but press the heel of his palm against the bruise across his chest, focusing on the sharp pain. 

There’s a knock at the door, but he locked it before he got into bed so he’s not afraid of someone walking in on him in such a state (weak, weak,  _ weak _ ); he stays quiet and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Gav?” the voice is muffled, Gavin knows it’s Michael, “Gavin, i… are you okay?”

Gavin covers his mouth with both hands, breathing heavily through his nose. It’s silent for a while until Michael says, “I know you’re awake. I just… I wanted you to know that I'm here for you if you need me, okay? Like… I know its hard, I don't know everything that happened, but I'm here if you wanna start taking baby steps, okay?”

Gavin smiles brokenly under his hands and can barely muffle the wet laugh that escapes.  _ Baby steps _ .

“Goodnight, Gav… i…” Michael doesn't finish his sentence, and Gavin can hear something hit the door dully before footsteps retreat from in front of his door.

\--

Things come to a head two days later.

It’s nearly ten at night; Gavin had avoided having dinner with everyone else despite it being chinese night, and he’s rummaging through the fridge to find some leftovers. He’s just in some shorts and a big shirt, and each step he takes shocks him a little because of how fucking  _ cold _ the tiles are in the kitchen.

He takes out a carton of noodles with some type of meat in it - he uses the light of the fridge to check, chicken? Maybe pork? It’s meat, and the food smells good, so he doesn't really care.

Gavin turns and knocks the fridge shut with his foot, humming to himself as he turns to the drawers to take out a fork. Without warning, there’s a hand on his waist nudging him to the side and it’s almost automatic, the way that Gavin grabs a broad chef’s knife from within the drawer and whips around with it in both hands, eyes wide and panicked as he stares at -  _ Jeremy _ .

It’s Jeremy that’s looking at him, taking two quick steps backwards and bumping against the kitchen table; something falls from it, maybe a bowl or a leftover cup, and shatters loudly on the tiles, “whoa, hey, sorry!”

Gavin grips the knife tighter, heart plummeting. He was fine, he was  _ okay _ , he was  _ normal _ , and now he’s full of that overwhelming fear again and suddenly he feels like he’s going to cry.

Lights turn on in the hall and Michael appears with Geoff and Ryan in tow. Jeremy turns around to look at them with a helpless expression on his face, and embarrassment flows through Gavin. He can't help but tighten his fingers around the grip of the knife, though, but he manages to lower his arms and step back, turning his head away.

Geoff starts to clear up the glass, frowning softly to himself, while Ryan goes to Jeremy once he’s further from Gavin. Michael walks up, and Gavin flinches away when he tries to reach for the knife, “Gav, you’re fine, it was just Jeremy, okay?”

Gavin gulps and nods slowly, forcing his breaths to slow as he closes his eyes. It was just Jeremy, he didn't mean to, it's nothing bad.

Gritting his teeth and carefully loosening his grip, he nods, “sorry, i… I'm sorry…” he steps back again when he opens his eyes and sees that Michael has stepped closer. A pained look crosses the other man’s face, and Gavin’s heart clenches a little.

“It’s okay, Gavin,” Michael smiles sadly but encouragingly, “put the knife back and head to bed, yeah?”

Gavin tightens his grip a little before loosening it again, placing the knife on the kitchen counter next to him. He looks up at Jeremy and Ryan briefly before quickly averting his gaze. He shuffles past and quickly makes his way into his bedroom.

He’s not even alone for more than a few minutes before someone comes in. Gavin ignores them, instead just staring at the wall and hugging his knees. 

“You good, dude?” it’s Geoff, and there’s a strange and unfamiliar tone of worry (nothing  _ worries _ the great King Pin, no way in hell, he’s got better things to do!) in his voice that makes Gavin’s throat seize up slightly.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, digging his nails into his shins a little to keep himself centred, “I'm fine. Tell Lil J I'm sorry, okay? I didn't…”

Geoff walks around in front of Gavin, crouching down so that he’s looking up at Gavin instead, then just giving up and slumping back against the wall, smiling gently - Gavin idly notices that the box of takeout he was heating up is in Geoff’s hands, and his heart aches with how much he loves the man, especially when he places it on the bedside table wordlessly; “i know, don't worry, and Jer knows too. We’re just worried about  _ you _ .”

Gavin nods slowly, eyes lidded as he sighs and lets his legs drop to the floor, leaning his elbows against his knees, “I'm-”   


“Don't say  _ fine _ ,” Geoff says, “or God have mercy, Gav, I won't hesitate to smother you with love. You’re  _ not _ fine.”

Pulling a face, Gavin sighs, “fine, okay. But i don't wanna talk about it.”

A sad look crosses Geoff’s face briefly before he manages to school it into something more encouraging, if not a little more neutral, “is there  _ anyone _ that you’d talk to? We could get someone on payroll if you need, and everyone in the crew is always ready to listen, you know that.”

“I know that,” Gavin parrots back, tangling his fingers into his hair and bouncing his legs rapidly, “I  _ know _ , Geoff… I hate even  _ thinking  _ about it…”

Geoff sighs and nods, crossing his legs and leaning forwards, “if you talk to someone else, it can help make the pressure a little lighter, yeah?”

He nods slowly, tugging his hair a little before letting it go and letting his arms fall limply, still resting on his knees, “maybe.”

Geoff and Gavin have been friends for nearly a decade and a half, and they’ve been working together even longer, so they know each others little nuances and mannerisms - so Gavin knows that  _ Geoff _ knows he’s lying, there won't be any asking for help any time soon.

“Okay,” Geoff says, standing up and rubbing the back of his head, “fine. I’ll…” Geoff rubs his face and sighs, so tired and harrowing that Gavin wants to say  _ don't go, I’ll talk, I'm sorry for all of this _ , “I'll see you in the morning, get some sleep.”

Gavin nods and the door shuts silently once Geoff has walked behind him, leaving the room in complete darkness.

\--

Gavin bolts upright in his bed, covering his mouth and muffling a sharp sob. He has to sit there for a few moments and try to calm himself down, drawing his knees up against his chest. He calms himself down after a couple minutes, and he can't help but frown heavily before flopping backwards into the bed.

Gavin’s sick of this.

He's sick of being scared, of flinching at any touch from people that are his  _ friends _ , he used to hang off of them like a monkey and now any touch has him shying away like an abused dog. Gavin wants to go back to normal. He wants to be happy again.

He sits up again and swings his legs off the bed, tugging off his shirt and pulling on his binder instead, then standing up carefully. He passes the large mirror on his wall and frowns at the sight of those scratches on his collar, touching them gently while turning his head away and taking in a steadying breath.

Gavin opens the door and slips out quietly, shutting it behind himself before tip-toeing down the hall and opening Michael’s door.

Start off simple. Baby steps.

He closes the door before slowly walking closer, lifting the covers and shuffling under much like he used to before Blake. Michael shifts against him and turns over, eyes flickering open with a croaky  _ Gav? _

Gavin nods and hesitates before shuffling closer, “I can go, if you want,” he whispers, eyes wide open in the darkness.

“No, no,” Michael says softly, shaking his head and dragging his palm along his bedside table before grabbing his glasses and managing to shove them on, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, “its fine, you can stay.”

Gavin plasters himself against Michael’s side once he hears those words, and Michael has no choice but to shift onto his back. Gavin lays his head on his chest and listens to his heart beat, coiled tighter than a spring as Michael’s hand strokes up and down his back, nails occasionally catching on the seams of his binder. He thinks of Blake, and his abysmal  _ touching  _ and the way he just wouldn't stop.

Then he thinks about Michael, his calloused hands and his smile and his kind words and he remembers that he's safe. He relaxes slowly into Michael, closing his eyes and shifting a little to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position.

“I can hear you sometimes, at night,” Michael whispers, hand pausing on the back of Gavin’s neck and fingers gently scratching at his hairline, “I don't… I want to help you, but I don't know how.” Gavin simply listens, goosebumps cropping up as Michael’s hand trails further up into his hair, “i'm not Jack, i'm not full of advice or kind like she is, and i'm not your fuckin’ surrogate father like Geoff… I don't know what Ryan and Jer are, but I know that I'm not like that for you.”

Gavin traces small shapes on the smooth expanse of Michael’s chest, triangles and stars and simple little spirals, “no, you’re not,” he can feel Michael deflate a little underneath him, “you’re my Michael. You don't need to be anything for me.”

“Then how can i help you? If i'm  _ just _ Michael, how can i make you better?”

“You  _ are _ helping,” Gavin says, furrowing his brows. His eyes flicker to one of the yellowing bruises on Michael’s side and he can feel his stomach tighten into knots, so he closes his eyes, “looking at you helps, seeing you okay  _ helps _ .” 

“I…” Michael seems lost for words, his hand drifts down to the back of Gavin’s neck, “i wanna know what’s going on inside your head, Gav… you’re not the same. I wanna actually help you, not just sit on the sidelines and watch you hide away.”

Gavin freezes up a little and stills his hand, laying it flat on Michael’s chest, “i'm not… I'm not  _ hiding… _ ”

“You  _ are _ ,” Michael whispers, so heartbroken and forlorn that Gavin’s throat tightens up a little bit, “i need to know what happened in there so that i can make sure it never fucking happens again, ‘cause i fucking  _ miss _ you… this is the first time you’ve touched  _ anyone _ for so long without flinching and i hate it so much.”

Gavin shakes his head and curls up a little tighter, pressing his cold nose to the soft skin of Michael’s nose, “I… I don't remember…” he lies, so fucking  _ obvious _ about it but he doesn't care, he just wants this conversation to end.

“Bullshit,” Michael says, petting through Gavin’s hair gently, “you’re my best fucking friend, i know when you’re lying.”

Gavin scrunches his face up and stays quiet. They both lay like that for a while, silent apart from the light rain against the window. Michael’s heart thunders like a racehorse under his ear and he can't help but be floored by the sheer passion that’s in this man, he’s a fucking hurricane and he took a horrible beating and he’s  _ fine _ , while Gavin’s an emotional wreck and nothing even happened to him.

“I know about the video,” Michael whispers gently, Gavin looks up in shock and his eyes are closed tightly like it pains him to say it, “I've seen you watching it, but i don't… I don't know what’s on it. I can guess. I know you remember what happened.”

Gavin’s heart drops and he gulps **.** The video was meant to be a  _ secret _ , a guilty pleasure like some sort of weird snuff porn, watching himself take revenge on footage like that felt more and more empowering each time he rewound the video, and watching Blake  _ die _ like that… it feels good. But Gavin is nervous, now, it feels like his stomach has fallen out of his body completely, a horrible sensation running through his chest until he whispers a quiet, “the video helps, sometimes. Helps me remember that I'm not as weak as i feel.”

“Gav,” Michael says, “you’re one of the strongest people I know. You don't need a video to remind you, because i’ll tell you every fucking day.”

Gavin laughs wetly and rolls onto his back, covering his eyes with his forearm, “I don't… I can't take what happened  _ seriously _ , because you… what you…” his throat tightens and he has to take a moment to breathe and remember that they're both safe now - he hates how easily the fear can take over, sometimes, like Blake is just right around the corner waiting for them both, “they treated you so  _ badly _ , I feel like such a bloody idiot for behaving like this.”

Michael rolls onto his side and faces Gavin, frowning gently, “what happened to you, and how that made you feel, they’re valid. Its okay for you to feel upset or scared, but you shouldn't feel  _ ashamed _ .”

“Jesus,” Gavin laughs again, pressing his fingers against his eyes roughly, “you really sound like jack.”

“Sometimes everyone needs a bit of a pep talk, y’know?” Michael takes one of Gavin’s hands, sighing gently, “it’s true, though.”

Gavin nods slowly and grips Michael’s hand tight, covering his eyes again and just trying to breathe through whatever his emotions are; a strange cocktail of fear, admiration, and shame. He feels the tips of his ears heat up when Michael’s thumb runs along the back of his hand in soothing circles. The movement is oddly tender, and it makes his heart skip a beat and his face heat up.

“Their interrogator,” Gavin says, voice failing him and starting off almost silent until he clears his throat gently, “he, um…” he tilts his head away from Michael and grits his teeth, sighing out tiredly, how is he meant to say any of this without sobbing like a child or exposing his embarrassing feelings towards Michael? Gavin finds one to be more important than the other, for some reason.

“Hey,” Michael says, the silence has stretched on for a little too long, “you don't have to tell me now; you don't have to tell me  _ ever _ , if you really don't want to. Just… I'm always here for you. If you ever feel like it’s terrible or something triggers you, just tell me and I'll try to help you, okay?”

Gavin looks at him slowly, studying his face before nodding slowly and turning onto his side. He presses his face against the column of Michael’s neck, tucking his head under his chin and scooting as close as he can get. 

Michael laughs softly, “I missed this, missed touching you.”

“I missed you too.”

\--

Waking up in Michael’s arms has been something that Gavin’s always dreamt of, shamefully and enthusiastically, but he never imagined it under these circumstances. Michael’s arm is wrapped around his upper body tightly, the muscles in his forearm occasionally jumping and jolting with every breath he takes. Gavin’s eyes are still heavy with sleep, but the longer he’s awake the more that fear and anxiety rises in his gut like bile.

Michael shifts against his back, cold nose pressing along the back of his neck and causing Gavin to shiver a little. The rest of his body is so warm under the covers, almost like a heat pack, and it relaxes Gavin a little more. He goes to turn over slowly, but when Michael’s arm tightens around his midsection and he makes a grumbling noise Gavin pauses, settling back down where he’s laid.

“Mhm,” Michael shifts and stretches out his legs, lifting up one of his arms and rubbing at his own face - his knuckles brush along the back of Gavin’s neck and cause him to shudder lightly, “mornin’.”

He sounds hoarse with sleep, and Gavin wants to listen to him in the morning  _ every _ morning ‘cause of how sleepy and unguarded he sounds. Gavin schools himself and chews on his lip, mumbling a soft  _ morning, Michael _ .

“Sorry,” Michael says, withdrawing his arms and sitting up, “I shouldn't have- I'm sorry.”

It’s a spur of the moment decision, really. Gavin feels so safe and warm and  _ calm _ , so he reaches out before Michael can get too far and gently takes one of his hands, bringing it back down over his own waist, “don't go, it’s cold.” From what Gavin can see of Michael’s face, he’s flushed bright red and looking down at him like he’s in awe of something particularly amazing. Instead of saying something, Gavin just buries his face in the pillow under his head and huffs, “sorry, that's weird.”

“No,” Michael lays back down, arm winding all the way around Gavin’s waist and his face pressing between Gavin’s shoulder blades, “Gav, it’s okay, I was just surprised.”

Gavin nods slowly, hesitating before turning over in Michael’s arms and shuffling closer, “thank you for last night, Michael…”

He smiles gently in return, and Gavin focuses on the nice colour of his freckles instead, and how Michael’s glasses have left red marks on his nose and along his temples, rather than on the way his heart skips a beat and his pulse races “no worries,” Michael says, but Gavin has  _ many _ worries. The majority of them are something along the lines of  _ Michael is so pretty, how do I resist kissing him _ , but they’re still legitimate worries. You can't exactly go about kissing someone without them knowing or,  _ god forbid, _ while you’re in  _ public _ .

“You’re thinking too hard,” Michael says, eyes going lidded as he trails his hand up and touches along Gavin’s jaw, “chill out.”

Gavin closes his eyes slowly and nods, sighing out, “yeah, okay,” he briefly opens his eyes again, humming, “hey, Michael-”

Oh.

That’s. Hm.

Gavin isn't drunk, and he knows that Michael isn't drunk. They've both only just woken up, for god’s sake. So he  _ knows _ that this isn't some drunken mistake. They might not be  _ two bros just kissing _ , like Michael would claim.

Michael, sweet, kind and caring Michael, is kissing him. He’s cupping Gavin’s face gently with one hand and the other is on his hip, and he’s tilting his head into it so slowly. Gavin is shocked into stillness, and Michael pulls away.

“I…” there’s an apologetic look on his face, “what were you saying?”

Gavin shakes his head quickly and thins his lips, “nothing, I… you…” he’s too flustered to really string a sentence together, so instead he shuffles closer and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth.

Michael doesn't say anything, but he doesn't really have to. Gavin pulls the covers up higher and presses himself closer to Michael, closing his eyes and sighing out peacefully despite the sun shining through the blinds and across the bed.

They lay there like that in silence for a long while, occasionally shuffling or shifting when limbs start to tingle with that tell-tale numbness. When his fingers start to turn numb under his own head a cold feeling spreads throughout his chest, and suddenly he’s back in that room each time he blinks, cold fingers and water drip drip dripping from the ceiling onto the cold floor.

Gavin presses his fingers to the warm expanse of michael’s chest in front of him and tucks his head closer, thinning his lips into a bloodless line before clearing his throat a little, “he… he made me feel useless.”

Michael doesn't say anything, instead pressing his wide palm between gavin’s shoulder blades.

“He made me listen to them hurting you,” he keeps his voice monotonous, trying to control the way his throat goes tight and hot as his face turns a bright shade of red, “he made me feel like it was my fault. I  _ know _ it wasn't,” Gavin rushes, pressing his fingers against the pale flesh and watching as the outlines turn a stark white with the odd freckle or two, “but it felt like it, especially when I had to fucking  _ beg _ for him to stop…”

“And…” Gavin’s voice tremors, so he pauses for a few moments and gathers himself before sighing gently, “he started to touch me.”

Michael’s fingers press hard against his back for a split second, “did he…?” there’s a fearful shake in his voice, and Gavin’s heart swells a little.

“No,” he reassures Michael, shifting closer, “he didn't. But… I didn't like it. He was doing what Fiona does.”   


“Oh,” Michael sighs gently, and Gavin knows he understands. Treading that line between flirting and fighting before eventually picking one or the other, michael used to do it too, Gavin knows. Michael used to do a lot.

“He tried to get me to tell him something, threatened to hurt you,” Gavin shuffles closer, “I would have told him anything if he had, but… yeah. He didn't. So I pissed him off, got beat and he left.”

Michael nods slowly, sighing softly, “that’s… why do you watch the video?”

“I killed him, and the people he had with him,” Gavin rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and resting his arm against his forehead, “I got out of that cellar  _ myself _ and killed them all, fucked up  _ Blake _ ,” he spits his name like a curse, “left the cunt with a chair leg in his head and I felt  _ good _ , like i was finally standing up for myself.”

Gavin can see Michael looking at him with a blank expression from the corner of his eye so he looks away, scoffing weakly, “I sound like Ryan.”

“No,” Michael says, “you sound like someone that went through something they shouldn’t have, something  _ traumatic _ , and someone that is allowed to feel good for getting their revenge,” a hand settles on his hand that’s on the mattress and he instantly turns it over to link their fingers tightly, palm to palm, “anyone would have done the same. Fear is a powerful drug.”

They lay in silence for a while before Michael continues to talk with a soft, “thank you for telling me, Gav.”

Gavin looks at him and sighs out softly, smiling incredulously as if to say  _ you’re dumb _ , “you’re my boi, Michael, I can't imagine telling anyone else.”

\--

Things start looking up around one month after the event. 

Gavin thinks it’s been a month, at least, but things have been passing by too quickly for him to focus on recently. Planning for a new heist came quickly once Michael was mostly healed, and Gavin was quickly saddled with work getting blueprints and negotiating with other crews for temporary alliances or resources.

Also, Michael took him on a date.

They go to that bar, the one with the light-up blue floor, and sit together, nursing a beer each all night and just  _ talking _ . No flirting, no drunken kissing, just talking to each other about anything and everything. They walk home that night in silence, but it's the most comfortable silence that Gavin has ever been in and Gavin still smiles a little dumbly when he thinks about it.

They haven't shared a bed since the first time, but not for their lack of trying. A combination of too much work or not even being in the same state at the same time. But they have all the time in the world.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah the ending was kinda rushed but i left it open to possibly do a sequel if i love this au enough. gavin angst sustenance.  
thinkin abt porn next. idk


End file.
